


Silence

by DearLazerBunny



Series: Carry On, Simon [1]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 08:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13900521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearLazerBunny/pseuds/DearLazerBunny
Summary: Four times our heroes woke up alone, and one time they didn’t





	Silence

_Well I woke up to the sound of silence the cars were cutting like knives in a fistfight_

-Carry On, FUN. 

  
Simon

When I wake up, I’m alone.

I squint into the light streaming in the dirty window, already disappointed with the day. I’m disappointed any day I don’t wake up at Watford.

This home is more run down than most. The blinds are plastic and dented, doing nothing to block out the sun. My cot is squeaky and uncomfortable, wobbling like it’ll break every time I turn over. I can hear people above me stomping around, yelling, probably eating breakfast. I groan. Another sucky day, another fucking train wreck.

Last night was a disaster. I tried to spell my room tidy for practice like a teacher suggested but I just ended up making a tornado of clothes, sheets, and shoes that whirled around the room until dropping everything at random on the floor. And I didn’t even trust myself to put it back with magic, so I had to do it by hand.

I would give anything to be in my room right now. My real room, at Watford, not this hole in the wall I’m supposed to call home over the summers. Even with Baz breathing down my neck, it’d be a lot better than this. I’d wake up early, and pale light would be shining through the window, but I’d keep my eyes closed and just listen to Baz’s steady breathing from across the room. I hate him, but he keeps me from being alone. The sound of his breath keeps me grounded when I wake, sweaty and panting, in the middle of the night from a nightmare. Here, I have nothing but the sound of my own panic to fill my head when nothing else will. It’s miserable.

I hate waking up alone.

                                                                                   ..............

Baz

When I wake up, I’m alone.

It’s disappointing, really. And then I’m disappointed at myself for being disappointed. I don’t need fucking _Snow_ to sleep, okay? But sometimes… having another person in the room helps. Not just him, anyone. My room at home is massive, muffled with velvet and oppressive cushions, weighing me down with their heaviness. Snow’s breathing is erratic, but it buoys the atmosphere of our dorm until it isn’t so weighty.

Damn him. I am not thinking about Snow.

I turn over and force my face back into my pillow, trying to clear my head of absolutely everything and go back to sleep. Of course, with my luck, I’ll just end up dreaming about him. I’ve done that before, and I hope to god I never have to take a lie detector test about the maturity content of those dreams, because that’s a test I wouldn’t pass.

I’m thinking about it again.

God, this is so fucking annoying. I don’t even like him. He’s idiotic, volatile, and naïve. The only thing keeping him afloat is Bunce. Why my heart hasn’t gotten the message my brain is screaming, I don’t know.

_Go back to sleep, go back to sleep, go back to sleep-_

But the thing about Simon is, he doesn’t need to be charming or suave or even competent at what he’s doing. Everyone likes him anyways. He doesn’t even have to try, just smile sideways at someone or scratch that stupid mole and you can practically see them falling themselves silly all over him. It’s maddening. It defies logic. It’s inconvenient, dangerous, and Crowley is it a bad idea. Simon is fire, and I’m flammable.

So why am I still being pulled in?

I hate waking up alone.

                                                                                    ............

Penny

When I wake up, I’m alone.

It’s so unusual for the house to be quiet I think I’m having another nightmare- where the Humdrum comes and takes them all away, leaving just me with nowhere to go-

I occurs to me this is how Simon feels all the time.

But no, not a nightmare, just a weekday. Parents are at work, Premal is off doing god knows what for the Mage, Pacey through Pip are at school. This flu has got me knocked off my feet an in bed for a week. You’d think I’d be grateful for the silence, but…. It feels too much like he’s doing it.

I grab another tissue and blow my nose, dropping it into the wastebasket by my bed along with a million others, and take stock of my options. I can’t text anyone- the only person who I’d even think to text would be Simon, and he doesn’t have a phone. Agatha has classes, which I won’t interrupt. Micah is long distance so we usually stick to the internet. Maybe Premal? Just to see how he’s doing….

Yeah, right. Fat chance.

Maybe Agatha has the right idea, making a bunch of non-magic friends. Friends who can have cellphones without fear or magical repercussions, who can invite you over on a Friday night without having to shove their entire collection of magical encyclopedias in the closet. Who’d respond to a text message while they’re sitting bored out of their minds in public school.

It sounds miserable, to be honest.

So I lay in bed with my eyes closed, just listening to the house breathe. The creak of the stairs, the hum of the heater, the fluttering of a book left open on a table being kicked up by the air. It’s quiet, and peaceful, and still. And I hate it.

I hate waking up alone.

                                                                                ............……

Agatha

When I wake up, I’m alone.

My head is pounding, repercussions from going a little overboard at my parent’s party last night. Someone slipped me a champagne- probably my aunt, she does that- and then everyone else kept slipping me something or other, and, well. It would be rude to say no, right?

I wish I had though.

I groan out of bed and throw on a clean pair of somethings before wandering down to the kitchen in search of food and Tylenol. The house is dead still. As hammered as I am my parents will be worse still, and probably won’t wake up ‘til noon after. I swallow a few pills, washing it down with tea, and listen. No one home. Sunday, I suppose, everyone has the day off. Fun times. I scrounge together some toast and demolish it still standing at the counter, not caring about propriety. I practically make the entire loaf, then crawl back into bed, letting my head drop back against the mound of pillows.

Part of me wishes Simon were here. He does the parties with me sometimes, makes them much less tedious. And my parents let him sleep in my room, on a rollaway cot we have for guests. It’s… nice, waking up with someone else. To hear that you’re not the only person in the universe when you wake up for those few moments in the middle of the night. To see that sleepy smile on their face when you roll over to the sun coming in the window. I look horrid in the morning, hundred percent, but Simon looks almost peaceful. Only time in his life the crinkle between his brows smooths out.

I sigh, and resign myself to a long day of aching nothingness.

I hate waking up alone.

                                                                                     ..........…..  
Penny

The fireplace is what wakes me up.

Someone must have come in and put more wood on it because its roaring like it wasn’t an hour ago. I squint at my phone. 5 AM. Plenty of time for more sleep. I snuggle back down onto the couch, letting the plush pillows consume me and tuck the massive blanket I have wrapped around me over my toes.

Boxing Day has always been my favorite holiday. Christmas, you have some obligations. Family and whatnot. Boxing Day, you get to remember that you don’t really like said family and can tell everyone to fuck off.

I got a respite this year though. Baz invited me and Simon over for Christmas dinner. After much begging and pleading, my parents finally agreed. Do they like the Pitches? No. But Baz and I are friends now (wow, what a thought) and it wasn’t like I was going to pass up a chance to see the mansion straight out of a gothic-horror novel. It’s like they want people to think they’re vampires.

After an absolutely magnificent spread at dinner, the three of us crashed in one of the dens to… well, I don’t remember exactly what we were going to do originally, but we ended up just talking and playing card games and challenging each other to frankly ridiculous dares that were entirely too much fun to do. Even Baz joined in when Simon dared him to go screech his violin right in his aunt’s ear. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him genuinely laugh like that.

We must’ve fallen asleep sometime after midnight, spread out on the giant couches surrounding the fireplace. Started like that. Simon and Baz have migrated towards each other like otters, with Simon’s head tucked under Baz’s chin and one arm wrapped possessively around Simon like he’ll fly away in his sleep. Which he very well might, I’ve seen it happen.

I quell the urge to take a picture, and wonder for the thousandth time how I didn’t see that little duo coming.

The room is warm and dim, and I’m still drowsy from the good food and late night. I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders and let my eyes close.

They’ll both be there in the morning.


End file.
